The large yacht, "Morning Spray" silently slipped into the quiet cove. On deck, Peter Naylor let go the halyard to drop the mainsail, and allowed his yacht to coast a little further towards the shore on the lightwight genoa. When he was about 100 yards away, he pulled on the roller reefing lanyard,and the genoa disappeared, wrapping itself quickly around the forestay. As quickly as his 62 year old legs could carry him, he hurried forward and let the anchor go. It fell into the mirror-calm azure blue waters of the remote tropical island cove with a splash that seemed almost rude in disturbing the total silence of the bay.

He looked around him barely daring to breathe lest he disturb the idyllic scene. The Islands on the tropical coast of the mainland are a mecca for yachtsmen, because of the expanse of semi-protected waters and proliferation of islands, coral reefs, secluded anchorages and the few exquisite five-star resort hotels. Holiday makers can join others and party continuously if they wish, or they can escape and be totally alone and undisturbed for weeks, all within a few hours sailing. The fishing is a dream too, yielding fresh meals every day.

The island was almost totally covered in rain forest, and in the distance Peter could hear the birds singing over the gentle lapping sounds of the sea against the boat's hull. Down below in the small cabin they laughingly called the 'saloon' the peace was disturbed by the unmistakable grunts and slapping sounds of two hard pedophile cocks being driven with force into the small cunts of little girls.

Once the anchor was set, the sails stowed and the other equipment of the passage from last night's anchorage stowed properly, Peter made himself a whiskey on the rocks and sat in the cockpit and contemplated his position as he watched the spectacular sunset. He pondered about how he had come to be in this idyllic place on his own beautiful sailboat after having been in such a high-ranking high-pressure job in a New York bank. ...

Neville Richardson had been International Vice President of one of the world's largest banks. In his extensive travels he had made a lot of use of the whores and call-girls which were regularly made available by him for the use of clients and govenment officials he wanted to do business with. In many parts of Asia, the whores were as young as 7 years old, and as a result he developed a liking for the slippery little bodies of preteen girls. In Manila, Tijuana, Delhi, Bangkok or Phnom Penh, grown men fucking little girls, while not actually approved of, is accepted as an unfortunate part of life. However, in New York it is not acceptable to interfere with a girl under 18 years, and when Peter was found by his wife with his pants round his ankles, and his naked 10 year old niece bouncing up and down gleefully on his cock, things took a definite turn for the worse.

Neville took just seconds so conclude that his life as a high-paid millionaire globe-trotting executive was probably at an end, as was his time as the husband of a beautiful 40 year old big-titted firm bodied blonde, and in fact he'd be lucky to keep his liberty. The thought of being gang raped in prison helped him see the imperitive of getting things sorted out very fast indeed.

He quickly negotiated a settlement with his irate wife. No trivial matter, since she was wielding a very large knife and muttering aggressively about someone called 'Bobbit'. He agreed to give her everything - their huge house, the two cars, the holiday home in the Adirondaks, the Chalet in Switzerland, the condo in Aspen, the keys to the safety deposit boxes, the bearer bonds, the stocks and shares - everything, as long as he could have $200,000 cash and their 50 foot luxury sailboat. And he'd leave New York, and she'd never see him again. It wasn't much compared to what they'd had, but he wasn't really in a position to bargain after all. She made him sign everything over, and had the deed witnessed by her brother who had arrived to pick up his daughter, never realising she had become somewhat wiser in the ways of the world than she'd been when he dropped her off the previous day. He didn't know how come all this stuff was being given to his sister, but since she'd agreed to give him $100,000 cash immediately if he didn't talk about it to anyone, he wasn't going to ask many questions.

So the next day, Neville was sailing down the Hudson River, cuddling his briefcase full of $200 grand in used $10, $20 and $100 bills, heading for the Atlantic Ocean and a small port in Maine where he had arranged to sell his precious boat. The payment for the boat had already been put in escrow in Switzerland in return for the ridiculously low price he'd accepted from the unquestioning buyer, and he'd use that to buy another boat when he got to Europe. Neville slapped himself on the forehead.

"Duuhhh! I forgot to tell my wife about the $972 million in the secret Swiss bank accounts! Oh well, I'll send her a postcard from the next port. Yeah! Get Real! HAR HAR HAR!" Oh yes, he also forgot to tell her that he'd been embezzling from the bank for 20 years, and they'd found him out. The Feds were about to descend on her and they'd probably confiscate all his posessions. They'd get perhaps $50 million for all the houses and investments, and they'd probably find the numbered account in Lichenstein, which he'd left for just such an eventuality. He'd even kept up the movements in and out of the account, so they'd think that was the real whereabouts of the money, but they'd spend years getting access to it and by that time he'd have the money out of the Swiss accounts and hidden in other places all over the world. It was a sacrifice to lose that money, but it was a sacrifice worth making if it meant the authorities thought they had outsmarted him and got off his back.

His wife would end up in a small apartment in the Bronx, bloodsucking bitch, and he'd still have the bulk of it. He'd actually got away with about $300 million of the bank's clients money but by the time he'd invested it and worked the foreign exchange futures market on his own account as well as the banks (pretending the money he was manipulating was a numbered client) it had grown to $972 million. And still growing.

If he stayed out of sight for a few more days, and got to Europe, he'd be able to disappear completely. He'd been prepared for a long time for the day he had to escape quickly, and had cash, false passports and other documents ready and stashed away. All he had to do was make a quick stop in Martha's Vineyard where the stuff was stored in a safety deposit box in a small bank, deliver the boat to Maine and he could be gone. Vanished forever, and living a new life with his well prepared new identity as Peter Naylor.

With his old identity as Neville Richardson discarded, he flew to Switzerland, economy class, under the name Peter Naylor, via a number of other countries in order to confuse anyone in the unlikely event they'd caught up with events and were watching for him. He'd grown a beard as he sailed to Maine, and by the time he'd flown out he looked very different to the Neville Richardson they'd be looking for. He'd gone straight to his Swiss bank and cleared the account out, and over the next month, moved the money hither and thither in a dazzling array of movements designed to confuse and disguse the real size and nature of the fortune. At the end of the exercise, Peter had money salted away all over the world, in bank accounts and other assets of modest size that wouldn't attract attention, and in ways that if any of it was lost to the authorities, the rest would still be safe. This technique had been proven effective over the years by everyone from Nazis on the run to Ferdinand Marcos and if he was nothing else, he was an expert on where to hide money!

The purchase in Le Havre of a brand new Beneteau 65 foot sailing yacht, specially equipped with all the latest navigation computers, global positioning systems, autopilot and communication gear, and rigged up for easy single-handed travel completed Peter's major purchases and he sailed for Greece.

He spent the summer cruising the Greek islands, eating, drinking, and partying with the fun-loving cruising population. He gradually worked his way towards the Suez canal, and by the end of the summer was in Djibouti, visiting an old Arab brothel-keeper who had done a lot of business with Peter over the years. Ahmed had always been able to supply the needs of Peter's lechery and those of his clients, no matter how bizarre. For a price.

While immensely relaxing, and certainly a much better way to spend a life than playing politics at the top of a major corporation, sailing alone was starting to get a bit boring.

"Ahmed, I need some company on my journeys," he said, "I need to buy two of your girls."

"Of course my old friend," the brothel-keeper said. "You have brought me much trade in the past, you may have any of my girls you wish. How long will you want them for this time?"

"No Ahmed, you misunderstand, I want to buy two girls to keep." The lecherous old Arab was astonished, but quickly regained his composure. Normally his clients wanted to have a girl, fuck her, use her, abuse her even, then hand her back without any of the complications a permanent arrangement meant.

"You are not setting up in competition are you Neville?" the brothel-keeper asked, suddenly starting to smell a rat. Peter hadn't wanted to leave a trail to his new identity, so he'd used his old identity for this.

"I'm afraid to say, you'll never see me again after this transaction, Ahmed. I'm not going to be coming this way again, and I want to have a couple of mementos of the happy times I've had here at your excellent establishment." Reassured, Ahmed settled on what he thought was an outrageous fee that was half what Peter was really prepared to pay, so both men were happy. They settled back on a sumptuous couch with a snifter of illegal brandy and Ahmed had 10 of his girls brought in for Peter's inspection.

Peter knew what he wanted, but he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to get his fingers up the cunts of some pretty girls, so he inspected them carefully. While the delicous array of teenage whores stood placidly in line, Peter walked up and down, fondling them, tweaking their nipples, kissing them, inspecting their assholes and fingering their cunts. After 15 minutes of studying them carefully, and feeling his cock swelling uncomfortably in his pants, Peter announced that none of them would do. Ahmed was not suprised by this, since it had always been the standard tactic of the banker.

"Perhaps you would like something a little younger, my friend? My friend Terrence Mbanga has just sent me a wonderful shipment of ripe new cunt for you to try." he asked, chuckling, knowing the answer in advance.

"Yes, you old swindler, you know I would. Now bring out your prime merchandise for me." The Arab laughed and another group of girls were led out. This time they were all between 7 and 12 years old. At Ahmed's signal, his servants stripped the girls of their clothing and they stood there before him, naked and unashamed. None of the girls had any pubic hair, and only two had any bigger tits than mere mounds. "Ah, yes, these are nice. Very lovely," Peter salivated at the sight of the pre-pubescent girl-flesh and began inspecting them carefully.

The first girl, a pretty 9 year old eurasian girl with long jet-black hair had bruising around her thighs. "Oh yes, I see," said Ahmed when this was pointed out. "She was a virgin until last night. She was used by a group of Syrian officials and I am afraid to say they were quite rough, especially when they made her service a goat. She resisted them at first, but in the end she proved she was most willing and cooperative. She will be a delightful whore once we teach her all the ways of lust. Don't worry about the bruises. A bit of rough handling is sometimes necessary when teaching a new girl what to do, you know that. There are no marks on her that won't disappear in a few days.. And she's been well cleaned out." Peter could see she'd certainly been well used. He knew she must have been fucked 30 times in her little preteen pussy, and when he looked at her asshole, he could see cracks and lesions around her anus where the Syrians had fucked her mercilessly there too. She'd certainly had an initiation into life in the brothel in a single night. He decided not to use her. Who knows what she might have caught from the goat.

He moved along to the next few girls, and all of them would be excellent candidates. They had the features he liked - very young, no tits, hairless slits, pert little asses, slim bodies, bright alert faces, long glossy well-kept hair. He picked out four girls for a more detailed inspection, and Ahmed showed them into a bedroom.

Peter stripped off all his clothes as soon as the door closed behind them, his rigid prick springing up to slap against his belly as the naked little girls pulled off his pants, then he lined them up for inspection.

The first was a 10 year old English girl with clear pale complexion and golden blonde hair, the second and third were arab girls aged 9 and 10 olive complexions, dark eyes and jet black hair, and the last was a 9 year old black Ethiopian girl with the short cropped hair typical of many African women. All the girls had the flat-chested, slim hipped boyish bodies typical of pre-pubscent girls, and their pussies were full-lipped slits with the pouting prominent pubic mounds that Peter preferred. "mmm this choice was going to be difficult," he thought.

He approached the black girl and without any prompting she reached out and wrapped her little fingers round his throbbing shaft. They could barely close around it. He always loved the sight of a little child holding a grown man's cock. He put his arms round her and she rubbed his cock head across her flat belly. The pre-cum left white slimy streaks on her jet black skin, which Peter thought was very fetching. He thought she'd look delightful with his fresh cum splattered all over that small body and pretty black face. He bent down to kiss her and she eagerly opened her mouth to accept his tongue and began sucking on it as though it was a cock. He ran his hand down her back and she pushed her ass out to give him access to her asshole. His finger slipped in there easily because it was greased up ready for fucking, and he knew she would have been fucked there before. He laid the girl on her back on the bed and pulled her legs apart. The other girls held her ankles for him while he pried open the sticky lips of her lil girl cunt.

The pink flesh inside her gash almost seemed luminous in contrast to the blackness of her thighs and outer lips. Peter was pleased to see she still had her clitoris intact. Unlike many of the girls in Africa and the Middle East, Ahmed's girls didn't have to go through the mutilation of circumcision, because he knew that whores were much better fucks and would therefore yield better prices if they enjoyed sex and fucked with enthusiasm. It is a peculiarity of Middle Eastern men that they like their women to be whores - all except their own women that is. Peter put his face to the girl's crotch and sniffed deeply, inhaling the heady aroma of her pre-teen sex. Her cunt was moist and her vagina was pulsating invitingly.

He stood and plunged his cock into her in a single thrust, watching her face carefully for reaction. She smiled and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, Fuck me!" she pleaded.

Peter stopped stock still with his prick up her so far his pubic hair was tickling her clitoris. He stood there waiting to see what she'd do. He didn't have long to wait, before she started squeezing his prick with her 9 year old cunt. "Yes, he wouldn't take long before he shot his load up her," he thought. She passed the first tests.

He tested the other three girls the same way, and found it hard to choose. They were all pretty, well groomed (if there was one thing you could say about his lecherous old friend Ahmed, he knew how to get and look after female flesh despite the ravages of brothel life on them). He knew he couldn't have all four girls on the boat with him, because there simply wouldn't be enough room. He decided to look for more practical means of separating them than their lustful qualities.

The English girl was good, because she was easier to explain as his niece if necessary. The two arab girls were pretty, and had gorgeous faces and clipping cunts that fitted his cock tightly. The 9 year old spoke competent English, although heavily accented, while the 10 year old couldn't understand him at all. The Ethiopian was wonderful and he'd really like to see her smothered in his spunk, but her English wasn't very good.

Finally he decided on the English girl, the Ethopian, and the younger Arab. This left the 10 year old Arab behind, so to sooth her feelings he decided to give her a proper fucking. He had her lie on the bed with her legs spread as wide apart as she could get them, her little cunt gaping obscenely. Then he arranged the other girls around her, so he could finger their slippery hairless splits and they could play with his balls and finger his asshole as he fucked. As he thrust into the little girl leisurely, she put her arms round his neck and began nibbling his ear. One of the other girls pushed two wet fingers into his anus and started wiggling them around. This was all he needed.

Peter grunted, groaned and his cock blasted the little 10 year old Arab girl's vagina with hot sticky sperm. All four little girls giggled and clapped at Peter's `achievement' in filling the tiny cunt with spunk. When he pulled his prick out, all four of them fought amongst themselves for the right to lick him clean. Peter thought this was a good omen.

They helped Peter dress, and he returned to Ahmed's office. "Ah my dear friend Peter, did you make your choice?" he asked with a sly grin on his face.

"Ahmed, I have decided to take three of them. I would willingly take four or even more, but I cannot accommodate more unfortunately. So I will take the English one, the hot cunted black slut, and the younger of the two Arab girls. I think that will give me a nice variety, don't you think?"

Ahmed laughed loudly. "You have chosen wisely as always. They will be good whores for you, they will do anything you tell them and you can use them any way you like."

"Ahmed, I have another request of you. I need a boy too." At this the brothel-keeper looked up in surprise. Not that he was asked for a boy, but that Peter had never shown any signs of homosexuality before. "I can see you're surprised. I need him to be obedient, and aged about 14, but fit and strong. I need him to help me keep the girls happy." At this Ahmed smiled knowingly. "And I need him to be willing to dally with whoever I say, man or woman. Do you have such a boy available Ahmed?"

"Such boys are not easy to come by. It will cost a lot of money ... but I think I can find such a boy. He must speak good English too I suppose? Yes, of course he will. Well, my friend, it will take me until tomorrow to arrange for the boy to be available for you, and your girls will be bathed, and prepared for you. You can pick up your merchandise tomorrow afternoon. So since this is your last evening with us, why don't you join me as my guest? The entertainment is going to be especially interesting."

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.